The Gift
by cutiechelsey
Summary: A S/J Christmas ficlet


A/N: Just a little Christmas fluff-fic. I promise I'll write something more substantial soon.  
  
1 The Gift  
  
Sarah hated Christmas.  
  
Well, perhaps she didn't hate it, hate it, but it certainly wasn't all hugs and carols like everyone made it seem.  
  
There were certain things she loved about Christmas. The way her school vacation gave her just enough time to drive home from college and visit her family. The way Toby ran into her arms when he saw her, then coyly turned the conversation to what gifts she may have stowed away in her suitcase. The way Karen made the house smell sweet with seasonal snacks. The way her father paid rapt attention to anything Sarah had to say. The way her family made her feel needed again.  
  
But she could not help the way it turned her stomach to see Karen and her father snuggle by the tree. Not because of any childish jealousy that had onced spurred many fights between Karen and herself - on the contrary, after she graduated high school the two of them became very close, Sarah even occasionally refered to her as "mom." But when her parents morphed into cutesy-couple mode, Sarah was reminded of how alone she truly was.  
  
Sarah really hated Christmas.  
  
She had no one to cuddle with in front of the fire, no one to kiss under the mistletoe, no one to exchange corny gifts with early Christmas morning. It wasn't that Sarah wasn't happy with her life - she was. But there was still that void. That empty whisper somewhere in the pit of her stomach that whispered, "twenty-one and still no long term relationships? You are quite the odd one, aren't you?"  
  
Sarah sat back on the couch, knees brought to her chest and a blanket thrown over them, a cup of hot cocoa clutched in her hands. The living room was lit only by the farie lights on the Christmas tree, casting eerie yet comforting shadows across the walls. Sarah glanced at the clock, as the hand ticked nearer and nearer to midnight, on Christmas Eve.  
  
It wasn't that she had never had a boyfriend, Sarah thought to herself, returning to the ever-present topic in her mind. She had just never felt that thing - she wasn't even sure what that thing was, only that she wanted it very badly.  
  
Sarah sighed dismissively, and set her cold cup on the end table. She stood up, stretching, and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders while flicking the off switch on the Christmas lights. A slight rustle of the wind - or was it the flapping of wings - called Sarah's attention to the window. It was unusual for her small Conneticut hometown to escape snow on Christmas, but not a single flake had fallen that year. Sarah drew the curtains shut and walked up the stairs to her room. Christmas really sucked.  
  
Flopping down on her bed, Sarah fought the restless urge to go run a mile. It was about nine degrees outside, for one, and she doubted that anything short of a marathon would shake this edgy feeling. Glancing around her room Sarah couldn't help but smile. It was always the same as she had left it, a strange combination of a girl's fantasies and woman's harsh reality. Photos of her mother littered a desk drawer she pawed through, looking for a hairbrush. Underneath it all a small red, leather- bound book was buried. Sarah knew it was there, but did not disturb it.  
  
Sarah found herself staring in the mirror. She was good enough looking, she supposed. Especially if she would every get around to doing something with her hair. Sweeping her long chesnut locks away from her face, she twirled them upwards, imagining how she would look. That was another thing that sucked about Christmas. Sarah never liked going to the parties. Everyone dressed up, and closing about her in a tiny space, the peculiar feeling of being watched - rather like she was feeling now, actually. Which was ridiculous. Wasn't it?  
  
"Stop that right now." Sarah softly chided herself. "Whatever it was, it's gone."  
  
But what was it? Was it real?  
  
Sarah quickly broke eye contact with her mirror image, scooping her brush up off the floor and running it through her hair. If only Christmas morning would get here sooner. She felt like Toby, the petulant six-year old who usually woke up the entire house at four in the morning to see what Santa had brought.  
  
"Maybe it's time to tell him the truth." Sararh mused to herself. "There's no use in building up his fantasies so much." Toby recently seemed very interested in magic, and monsters, and... kings. Certain cold, harsh eyes with but a glimmer of something flashed before her mind. Such a long night.  
  
And there was that brush of wind again. Sarah went this time to her bedroom window, peering out at the still, clear night. The moon shone brightly, just as it had another night, when the story she had read so many times had played out in real life. With a slight exception.  
  
I was the heroine. I wasn't supposed to feel for the villian. Or vice versa.  
  
And the thought that plagued her most - had he really meant it? What he said that night, about the moon and the stars and love...  
  
Or was it just a ploy?  
  
Sarah hated this train of though. It was the Christmas time that did it to her, she supposed. Nothing bothered her quite as much, not even Valentine's Day. Maybe it was the cold weather, the need of another body next to her to keep her warm at night. Or maybe she was just pathetic. Either way, it was clear she would not sleep tonight.  
  
Sarah blinked rapidly, focusing her gaze outside the window once more. Was that a flash of white she saw? A bundle of white feathers, brushing past her window?  
  
I have to know. I have to know. No matter what the truth is, I still have to know it.  
  
Sarah slid into her vanity seat, and gazed into the mirror. It seemed appropriate, somehow.  
  
"Jareth?"  
  
The silence made her laugh. She was going stir-crazy on this sleepless night. Was she honestly letting one night's insomnia convince her that a fifteen-year old girl's dream was true?  
  
And then the lights went out.  
  
Sarah froze mid-giggle, or rather mid-half-hearted-chuckle, and sat bolt upright in her chair.  
  
"You called?" Asked a throaty, smoothly accented voice from behind her. She saw him step out from the shadow's by his reflection in the mirror, too frightened to turn. Or perhaps too nervous to let her eyes decieve her.  
  
"And to what do I owe this gracious social call?" He chided, stepping up behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror.  
  
"I... Are you really real?" The confused words tumbled from her mouth against her bidding. His gloved hand slid under her chin, guided her to turn in her chair and meet his gaze.  
  
"I am." Sarah rose slowly, his hand trailed across her chin and down her neck and shoulder.  
  
"Did you mean what you said?"  
  
"Which?" Jareth said, his voice rough and hard. "That I would move the stars for you? That I would be your slave? What requires clarification?"  
  
"I don't know." Sarah whispered, trying to edge away. Jareth clamped his hand around her wrist. "I thought it was a trick."  
  
"A trick?" Jareth hissed, wrenching her closer by the wrist. "What more could I have done to convince you? It is not my fault you cast me as the villian."  
  
"You never said you loved me."  
  
"You never listened!" He growled, backing her up against the wall. "I acted on your every wish! I reordered time for you! I offered you my heart and you denied it."  
  
"I had to save Toby."  
  
"You've never understood." He whispered dangerously, encircling either wrist and pinning them against the wall. "You could have had him, had you truly wanted him. I would have given you anything, Sarah, if you had loved me."  
  
"I did." Her barely audible response hung in the air between them, Jareth's eyes narrowed, Sarah's breath was haggard.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I did love you. I was just a kid though, I didn't understand."  
  
"And do you understand now?" He whispered softly, inclining his head so that their noses nearly touched.  
  
"I want to." His lips brushed hers softly. Sarah stared up at his hooded eyes, his painfully masked eyes that allowed a glimmer of hope to seep through. Sarah leaned forward and Jareth's lips pursued hers quickly, pushing her back against the wall. Her arms worked their way free of his grasp and trailed up his back, around his neck, slipping through his silky straw strands. He kissed her fervently, powerfully and heatedly, wrapping his arms around her as though he were trying to explain his entire existence to her in one kiss. And Sarah found she understood. Or she was starting to.  
  
He pulled away and an unbidden moan slipped from her lips; a cockly smile crossed his.  
  
"I've brought you a gift." He whispered huskily against her ear, conjuring a crystal and offering it to Sarah lightly, who paused for but a moment before closing her palm over it.  
  
Christmas was beginning to seem not so bad after all. 


End file.
